What Is, And What Should Never Be
by Mother Mercury
Summary: Chapter Six - such a long wait! I'm very sorry. But it's quite juicy now, so read it. And review - that's why I keep on writing.
1. Chapter One'

Alright, alright, I've conceded to it! I have created a little place in my heart for Hermione/Severus fics. After reading Christina Hilt and Mylaea's wonderful pieces (go read, if you haven't already), I have decided to give it a go myself. *cringe* I hope this goes well, and it won't end up being trite and cliché, like some horrible Potter-world soap opera. I need a Muse now, to give me some sort of original idea… here goes!

****

Obligatory disclaimer: _JK Rowling owns all of the characters in this story _(no, I won't be creating any originals), _I just borrow them and occasionally use them as my love slaves _*pets Severus*

What Is, And What Should Never Be

Tears were stinging threateningly in Hermione's eyes as she stared down the stranger standing in front of her. He stared back, just as determined as she, clenching his fists and tightening his lips with frustration.

'So, this is it, then?' he asked.

'Yes,' she replied.

'Long time coming, I guess.'

'Perhaps,' said Hermione, her eyes narrowing.

'You're always overreacting, Hermione,' Ron spat. 'You have to make everything an issue, whether it's house elves, staying out late or this.'

'Oh, I see. So, I should just _let_ you run around kissing other girls?'

'It was an _accident_, 'Mione!' Ron shouted. 'I've told you that a million times!'

'You _accidentally_ put your tongue in her mouth? Oh yes, I can see how that would happen,' she said, sarcastically.

'Hey! It takes two people to kiss, alright?'

'But only one person to stop it, Ron,' Hermione said softly, throwing her bag over her shoulder. 'I don't want to carry on this argument anymore. It's _over_, Ron, it's over. I'll see you later.' And with that, she quietly exited through the portrait hole, leaving Ron standing alone in the middle of the common room. She found it hard to believe that it was actually over, after nearly a year. The tears she had been holding back were finally flowing freely down her cheeks, and she made no effort to stop them. Ending such a long relationship, the longest she had ever been in, deserved tears, she thought. 

Wiping her face on her sleeve, Hermione pushed open the door to the library and placed herself in a small corner at the back to finish up her History of Magic homework. She managed to finish it in fifteen minutes without comprehending one word of what she had written on the parchment. She found herself suddenly extremely tired and, not thinking, she lay her head down on the table and drifted off to sleep.

The sleep was not pleasant, and nor was the awakening.

'Look at this! The mudblood's sleeping in the library! I guess she must never leave.'

Dull chuckling.

'What do you say we leave her a little… er… present to wake up to?'

Hermione felt body heat coming closer and shot straight to her feet, with her wand out. 'Don't you even think about it, Malfoy.'

'Sleep well, Muggle?' Draco Malfoy said, a sneer curling his pale lips. 'Aw, look, the Muggle's been crying. Did Weasley finally realize he could do better than a sodding mudblood like you, Granger?' 

'Piss off before I curse you back to first year, Malfoy.'

'Such language! I ought to tell Professor Snape,' he taunted, sarcastically.

'You needn't do that, Mr Malfoy,' said a voice from behind them. 'Indeed, I have heard enough already.'

Startled, Hermione dropped her wand and spun around to see the very person who could make her day a million times worse.

'Speak of the devil!' Malfoy said, jovially.

'You three,' said Snape, pointing a long finger at Malfoy and his cronies. 'Get back to your common room. I very much doubt that you've finished your essays that are due tomorrow. Miss Granger will come with me.' The Slytherins smirked and retreated out of the library.

'Professor, I…' Hermione stammered.

'I do not wish to hear any excuses,' Snape snapped. 'You will gather your things and come with me.'

Briskly and silently, she pushed her papers into her bag and followed the professor to the dungeons. She was trembling, both with mild fear and the feeling that the tears would come back soon. She couldn't imagine anything worse than crying in front of Snape, so she bit her lip and repeated a calming mantra inside her head.

'Sit,' he barked, once they reached his office.

She obeyed, fidgeting nervously with robes. Snape placed himself behind his desk and looked straight into her eyes.

'This school does not tolerate the language you used -'

'I'm sorry, Professor. I didn't mean…' 

'Be quiet, Miss Granger!' Snape bit. 'You would kindly allow me to finish what I am saying before you interrupt me again.'

Hermione nodded.

'Hogwarts does not tolerate the language you used, no more does it tolerate that of Mr Malfoy. You both displayed unacceptable behavior, and ordinarily I would give you both detention, however…' he paused for a moment. 'Given his provocation, I shall let you both slide this time. Prejudice like this is, unfortunately, somewhat common in pureblood families. But… you can't expect me to give detention to a Slytherin.'

Hermione was dumbfounded. She had just witnessed something she never thought she would - Snape not only slipped on an opportunity to punish a Gryffindor, he actually made a joke. This couldn't be right. But, despite her shock, she grinned at his humour. 

'You may return to your tower, Miss Granger,' Snape said, standing up and returning to his usual demeanor. 'I expect to see your essay finished on time tomorrow, and…'

'Yes, Professor?'

'… do kindly not mention this to anyone else.'

***

*dies* ha ha ha! I actually wrote a CHAPTER! Bwahh! Tell me what you think, because I'll prolly go back for some editing later! 

Au'revoir!


	2. Chapter Two

Well, here it is, chapter two. I'm going to try my best to keep everyone in character, so point out any major character flaws to me please! Keep on reviewing, people, this is all for you!

**Obligatory disclaimer**: _JK Rowling owns all of the characters in this story _(no, I won't be creating any originals), _I just borrow them and occasionally use them as my love slaves _*pets Severus*

What Is, And What Should Never Be Chapter Two 

The shock of being let off punishment numbed Hermione's tears until she got back to the common room, where Harry and Ron were sitting. Ron was facing away, but Harry, who saw her as soon as she stepped through the portrait hole, muttered something to him and Ron went up the wooden stairs to the dorms. As soon as he was out of sight, Hermione dissolved into tears once more, melting into the squashy purple armchair next to Harry.

'He really regrets what he did, you know,' said Harry, placing a gentle hand on her arm.

'I regret what he did too,' replied Hermione, bitterly. 'Please, don't try to make me change my mind, Harry. I stand by my decision.'

'It's just…'

'Harry, I don't want to hear it! I know he's your best friend and he probably put you up to this, but I'm telling you to just leave it. Please…'

'D'you think you can be friends again?' Harry asked quietly.

'I hope so, I really do,' she smiled slightly. 'But, anyway, life goes on right? Let's talk about other things.'

***

Monday came quickly. After her discussion with Harry, Hermione's night passed quietly and hastily as she did a last minute check of her Potions essay. The class was the double block at the end of the day, which was already awful enough to have to share it with the Slytherins, but with her current situation with Ron, it would undoubtedly be worse.

'Essays on my desk now,' Snape told the class as the bell rang. 'I will not hear any excuses as to why you haven't done it. Any incompletes will receive zeros. Quickly!' he snapped at the last few to hand theirs in. 'Sit down.'

His words echoed around the stone walls into the silence of the class, while he flipped through the pile of homework, a smug sneer on his face.

'Very well,' he said, finally. 'Your meager attempts will by marked by Friday. That, however, will be the least of your worries.' He paused to look around the class. 'As I'm sure you are aware, your NEWTs are coming up at the end of this year. Opposed to the rest of your classes, the Potions NEWT is composed of two parts: the final exam and a yearlong project, each part accounting for 50%. The projects will comprise of a five roll essay on a potion of your choice, as well as brewing said potion.'

A dull mutter spread throughout the class. 'I can see some of you feel that this will be a simple project, however, I assure you, it will not be easy. The potion you choose may not be any that we have brewed in class to date. Essays must include all available history and effects of the potion, as well as full footnotes and bibliography. I will give you one, and only one class to work on it, and that will be today. I expect you to have given me your decision by the bell. Now, you will gather your things and proceed to the library.' He stood up and swiftly exited the room, without waiting for the class to follow.

The noise level rose significantly, most voices were angry. Hermione couldn't understand what there could possibly be to be angry about. It was merely the beginning of October and they had the rest of the year to complete the project. Ron was grumbling particularly loud to Harry, about how he simply didn't 'have the time to be working his arse off for that slimy git'. Harry remained silent, for which Hermione was grateful; he was obviously making an effort to not create a larger rift between them.

They reached the library and everyone spread out to find books. Hermione, however, knew exactly which potion she wanted to do. It was a fascinating potion, which she had only read of in one book, but had entranced her from the first word; but it was dangerous, extremely dangerous - so dangerous she didn't know if Snape would allow her to do it. And, upon further reflection, she wasn't even sure if she was up to doing it alone. Maybe it would be best left until she had fully gained a grasp on Potions. But, who knew when her next chance would be?

Hermione sat, silently deliberating, for twenty minutes.

_No_, she told herself. _It's now or never. You've waited for this opportunity, and now you have it. The worst he can say is no. Just go for it._

Taking a deep breath, she rose and strode the table where Professor Snape was sitting. He looked up at her through his greasy fringe.

'Yes?'

'I've decided which potion I would like to do, Professor,' said Hermione, still breathing deep to maintain her courage.

'What is it?' he bit, impatiently.

'Well… the thing is, I'm not sure if I'm up to doing it alone, and so… I understand if you don't agree… but, I'd need your help with it.'

Snape's hand flicked up to brush away the hair from his eyes. His gaze pierced her, and, as though he could already tell what her answer would be, he asked, 'Which potion is it?'

'Necare,' she whispered in reply.

Silence fell between them. Snape seemed to fall into deep thought, with his chin rested on his fingers.

'You say you want my help?' he demanded, with a touch of disgust at the idea of aiding a Gryffindor.

'I know how dangerous brewing the potion can be, and if you'd simply oversee it to make sure I don't do anything wrong…'

'So, you understand my reservations,' he muttered, hinting sarcasm.

'Yes, sir.' Hermione began beating herself mentally. Why on earth would he possibly help her? She was a Gryffindor, for Christ's sake; there was no way he would agree.

Snape was looking particularly sour. He returned his gaze to her eyes. 'This is the first time a student has asked me if they can study the killing potion. And…' his expression soured more – these words were obviously causing him great pain to say. '… I doubt very much that any student would be up to making it. However… if you agree to put all the effort you have into the project, I will agree to oversee it.'

***

I don't know… was this chapter as good as the first? Please, any crits (constructive, preferably) are welcome. You can probably tell where the story is going from here, but I really don't want to write an utterly predictable, out of character story.

_Enfleurage_ – I generally have a bit of a potty mouth (bad habit, I know), but I figured Hermione isn't much of a swearer, nor would Hogwarts tolerate bad language, however mild it may be. They are very high class, you know ;) 

Edited slightly – 07/23

Necare is Latin, by the way


	3. Chapter Three

Dear me. I'm really doing this, aren't it? It has been a long time since I've written, and I'm actually doing this. I'm scared.

OH, THE HORROR!! THE FUNKY HORROR!!! (Cupcake if you can tell me where that quote is from)

**Obligatory disclaimer**: _JK Rowling owns all of the characters in this story _(no, I won't be creating any originals), _I just borrow them and occasionally use them as my love slaves _*pets Severus*

What Is, And What Should Never Be Chapter Three 

Hermione's steps gained a small bounce on her way to the Great Hall for dinner. The elation of having her project approved pushed her issues with Ron to the back of her mind. But, only momentarily, for when she went to take her usual seat at the Gryffindor table, his scowling eyes met hers. She frowned slightly, moving over one place to sit between Harry and Dean Thomas. Harry gave her a brief smile before breaking the silence.

'So, how about the Potions project, eh?'

'It's bloody stupid, is what it is,' Ron replied, scrunching his nose.

'I like the idea,' Hermione said, quietly.

'Well, you would.'

Hermione ignored his comment and directed her attention to Harry. 'Which potion did you choose?'

'The Abeo Elixir, it's an invisibility potion. Ron's doing the Polyjuice potion,' he said, with a grin. 'He figures it should be easy considering our experience with it.' Ron gave a slight snort 'What about you?' Harry asked, ignoring him.

'Necare.'

'I've never heard of it.'

'It's not a particularly popular potion. It's rather… dangerous, actually.' Harry's eyebrows shot up, and Ron raised his head to look at her. 'But, Professor Snape said he'd oversee my brewing to make sure I don't do anything wrong.'

'Why the hell would you want to spend even more time with that slimy git?' asked Ron, wearing a disgusted look.

'I don't _want_ to, Ron,' Hermione snapped. 'I have to. I don't want to risk messing up somehow. Trust me, I don't like him any more than you do, but I don't _really_ want to kill myself.'

***

'Miss Granger,' said Professor McGonagall as the lunch bell rang. 'A word, if you will.'

'Yes, Professor.'

'Professor Snape would like for you to begin preparing the ingredients for your potion this evening. He wishes for you to be at his office at seven o'clock.' She peered at Hermione over her square rimmed glasses. 'I understand, Miss Granger, that you choice of potion is rather risky. Do be careful.'

'I will, Professor, thank you.' With a fleeting smile, she exited the room. 

***

Ron ignored her through double Herbology that afternoon, so Hermione spent the period talking to Harry. She could tell her situation with Ron was putting him in a tough place, but she felt he was showing incredibly maturity in how he dealt with it. She very much wanted to just have her friendship back. But, considering the circumstances, she would settle for a 'lack of open hostility', as Professor Dumbledore had once put it. Strangely, Hermione found herself looking forward to going down to the dungeon that evening; not because she was feeling particularly happy about spending time with Snape, but because she wanted to give Harry a break from having to stifle his friendship with Ron.

Thankfully, for Hermione, seven o'clock came fairly quickly. She trotted down to Professor Snape's office, and, with a momentary involuntary shudder, she knocked firmly on the door. A few seconds later, Snape opened the door, looking slightly pink and disheveled, but sour as ever.

'Come in,' he said, with surprising civility. 'You will get started right away. Preparing the dwayberry will take at least three hours and I'd rather not have you here any longer than you have to be. I have work to do. I have set up my cauldron in the corner,' he indicated over to the steaming silver cauldron beside the tall bookcase. 'The dwayberry is in a jar on the table. You must first remove the berries and set them aside, then dice the stem, flowers and leaves finely, and boil them for an hour, keeping it in constant motion. After it's complete, it will be a paste. You then add the berries and boil it again. Once again, it will be a pasty mixture, which you must dry and dice up. You must _not_ let any of it come in contact with your skin at any time. Do you understand?'

'Yes, sir,' Hermione replied, with a brief nod. 

'Well, then, don't just stand there like an oaf. Get started.' He spun on his heel and went to sit behind his desk. Hermione dug her dragon hide gloves from her bag and set to work plucking the inky purple berries from the stems. The motions came effortlessly, and Hermione had soon been working for nearly two hours. Her arm was cramping up and her hand was seizing around the stirring spoon. She fell into a partially sleeping state, only conscious enough to maintain the stirring. The thoughts in her head seemed to have gone down for a nap and left her with an obvious glazed look on her face, because she was soon "awakened".

'Miss Granger!'

'Huh?' Caught by surprise, Hermione dropped the spoon into the cauldron and spun around. 'Damn it!' she cried, louder than she had expected, and, again not thinking, she plunged her hand into the cauldron to retrieve it. Pain seared up her arm and burned into her flesh. She yanked her arm out, sending more of the boiling substance splattering over her chest. She collapsed to the floor, desperately trying to wipe it off on her robes. She barely heard Snape's roar of fury from behind her, but she felt him wrench her around by the back of her robes and seize her arm.

'Foolish girl!' he spat. Hermione whimpered. 'Hold STILL!' He ripped a length of material from his own robes and tied it tightly around the top of her arm. 'Stay there.'

Hermione stood, shaking and crying, trying not to watch the skin on her arm bubble, while Snape whisked off to his stores. He returned hastily with a large phial of violently blue liquid and a cloth.

'Just sit down and stay calm,' Snape told her. 'Put your arm on the desk. The tie on your arm will have stopped the poison from spreading, but I need to extract what's already in your body. This will hurt, but it's necessary.' 

Hermione nodded silently. Snape soaked the cloth in the blue liquid and began to rub it on her blackening arm. It felt like he was making absolutely no effort to be gentle. The scorched skin was peeling off, exposing the raw, pink layer underneath. Tears streamed down her face, but she made no sound, biting her lip hard to stifle it.

'Done,' said Snape. 'Aside from your arm, how do you feel?'

'Dizzy,' Hermione replied. Her head was spinning and she felt like she was going to throw up if she looked at her arm again.

'Did the dwayberry get anywhere else?' Snape asked sharply.

Hermione nodded and pointed to her chest. It had burnt through her robes, leaving small scorch marks across her breasts. She cringed at the sight. Her dizziness intensified significantly; she turned her head to the trashcan beside the desk and threw up into it.

'I'm so sorry,' she whispered.

'That is not important right now. I have to get the poison out of the wounds on your chest. I would send you to Madam Pomfrey, but it's too far. I need to get it out _now_.' He looked sternly into her eyes. 'You have to let me get the poison out of those wounds.'

Hermione's throat was beginning to close up. She knew what she had to do; she undid the clasps at the side of her robes and took off her blouse. Festering black boils were popping up where the dwayberry had splattered. With his eyes closed (Hermione was somewhat thankful), Snape rubbed at the sores, fiercer than he had rubbed her arm. Hermione could feel the pressure in her neck lessening and the dizziness fading. She became more aware of the pain all up her arm and chest and of how close a man she hated was to her nearly bare chest. A wave of disgust passed over her, causing her to shiver.

'What's wrong?' Snape asked.

'Nothing,' Hermione muttered, taking the cloth from his hands. 'I think I can do the rest myself.' She continued the work Snape had been doing, trying to avoid eye contact with him. In fact, more or less trying to ignore the fact that he was there at all. He remained seated next to her.

'That should do it,' he said, leaning forward to take the cloth. 'You should now. Stop by the hospital wing and get some ointment and gauze from Madam Pomfrey. I will clean up here.'

***

Well, uh, that's it for now, I guess. Tell me if you think I should change anything, because I often screw up. I never cease to amaze myself with that ability. Sorry it took so long to get up, I had a friend visiting from out of town for a couple weeks (author: Alendalian). So long for now.


	4. Chapter Four

**Obligatory disclaimer**: _JK Rowling owns all of the characters in this story _(no, I won't be creating any originals), _I just borrow them and occasionally use them as my love slaves _*pets Severus*

What Is, And What Should Never Be Chapter Four 

Hermione woke up the next day stiff and sore. Her hand and arm was covered with shiny, new skin that was inflexible as she tried to move her fingers. Her chest was spattered with small scabbing wounds. She painfully remembered the previous night as she applied the cream Madam Pomfrey had given her. A mistake like that would cost her the project. Snape had already been reserved about agreeing to it, and Hermione knew her stupid clumsiness would never be forgiven. And she still could not get past the fact that she had unbuttoned her blouse in front of him. The thought made her feel disgusting and dirty, even though she knew it was a necessary step after her blunder.

Tenderly, Hermione took of her pajamas and pulled on her robe. She didn't feel like having breakfast, or dealing with Ron, so she sat back down on her bed and reached over for the book she was reading. Just as she finished her page, a sharp knock came from outside. A small, dark owl was sitting on her windowsill, tapping on her window with its scaly claw. She opened the window and it fluttered down onto her bedside table, dropping a small note, folded neatly and sealed with a wax emblem, then flew swiftly back outside. Hermione carefully unfolded the crisp parchment and nearly dropped it when she saw that the signature at the bottom read '_Severus Snape_'.

Miss Granger 

_You no doubt realize how disastrous your error was. Your injuries could have been far worse. However, this mistake does not mean you no longer have to complete your assignment. I expect you at my office tonight, at six, to complete the ingredient preparation._

_Professor Severus Snape._

***

The note left Hermione in shock for the rest of the day. She could not for the life of her understand why Snape had given her a second chance. She doubted whether she would've given herself a second chance. Harry and Ginny had asked why her arm was bandaged up, but she brushed off the comment by merely saying she'd stood too close to her cauldron fire. She felt embarrassed. Nevertheless, come six o'clock she found herself outside his office again, dreading knocking. An immediate reply came as she rapped on the door.

'Come in!' Snape snapped. Hermione slowly opened the door and stepped inside. Snape swept over and loomed above her. 'Yesterday's mistake was inexcusable. You realize how dangerous the potion is, and to blunder so early on was behaviour I would not have expected from a competent student like yourself.'

'I'm sorry, sir,' Hermione said, staring at her feet.

'Now, as you can't seem to be able to prepare the ingredient yourself, I will be helping you with the dwayberry. I have picked some fresh and it is on the table over there.' He pointed to very small oak table with two chairs, two knives and two pairs of dragon-hide gloves. Snape took one seat and Hermione, the other. 

'I'm sure you remember the process,' he said. 'Remove the berries and dice the stem, leaves and flowers. And, Miss Granger…'

'Yes, Professor?'

'Do try not to cut yourself.' Hermione swore she saw a slight grin.

'I'll try, sir,' she replied. 'But, no promises.' She carefully removed the berries from the brittle stems, trying not to squash them, or tear the leaves. Her hands were shaking slightly to begin with, she didn't know why, but as she continued to concentrate, she felt more at ease in the situation and was able to slice steadily.

'Don't let your mistake get to you,' Snape told her after a while, with a kindness she had never heard from him before. 'The first time I prepared dwayberry, I knocked the entire cauldron over my feet. I couldn't walk properly for a month.' Hermione smiled. 'But, you'll do well not to mention that to anyone else.'

Silence loomed over the rest of the slicing procedure. Hermione noted the preciseness with which Snape sliced, each piece being a uniform size and his hands flowing over them with the ease that had come from years of potion making. When they had both finished, he swept all the bits into a bowl and added them to the liquid that had been simmering in the cauldron. 

'I need that spoon behind you,' Snape grunted, when he had finished. Hermione reached behind to get it just as he leaned forward to do the same. Their hands met on the spoon and they both froze.

'Sorry,' Hermione muttered and turned back around. Snape slowly retreated, his cheek brushing against hers. She noticed him taking a deep breath of her hair as she did the same. He froze again just millimetres from her face. Her breath grew shallow and shaky as she looked into his eyes. She could feel his warm breath softly against her lips and, with fear, realized what was going to happen.

He pressed his lips gently against hers.

Snape drew away quickly, but still close enough so Hermione could feel his heat. Her heartbeat grew fast, and her breathing shook even more. A new feeling was coursing through her blood, and she didn't know what it was. Surrendering to her first impulse, she leaned forward and kissed him again. Hermione could feel Snape's body trembling as hard as hers. She wanted to melt away into the kiss, but a thought jolted her.

_…I'm kissing a teacher…_

She pulled back and stood up, with her hand over her mouth and her eyes wide. Snape looked up at her, wearing the same shocked expression she was.

'Oh, my Lord…' he whispered. 'What have I done?'

Hermione couldn't speak; she just slumped against the wall and stared out. Thoughts raced through her mind. She had kissed a teacher… not just any teacher – she had kissed Severus Snape… and she had enjoyed it.

No. She hadn't enjoyed it. It was disgusting. Disgusting and wrong, that's all it was. It should never have happened.

But she _had_ liked it, as wrong as she knew it was…

Hermione looked up at Snape. He was sitting on his desk, holding his head in his hands and massaging his temples. She stood up nervously and took a few steps towards him.

'I, uh…' she stammered. 'I'm sorry…'

'My fault…' he replied. 'Shouldn't have…'

'I don't…'

'Completely wrong…'

'Very…'

'Could lose my job…'

'I know...'

'You could get expelled…'

'I should…'

'Lord…'

'I should go…'

'Maybe…'

'I'm sorry,' they said at the same time.

Hermione walked towards the door. She turned back briefly and looked at him, then swiftly turned and ran back to the common room.

***

Wow… that's been on my mind for a day now, and I had to actually write it. I watched Mesmer yesterday, and, by God, a movie should not turn me on that much! Alan Rickman is just… too pretty. PEOPLE SHOULD NOT BE ALLOWED TO BE THAT PRETTY. Anyway, this is what came of it. Critique at will (I have my flamethrower ready). But, seriously, all reviews are welcome (do I really need to tell you that?).


	5. Chapter Five

**Obligatory disclaimer**: _JK Rowling owns all of the characters in this story _(no, I won't be creating any originals), _I just borrow them and occasionally use them as my love slaves _*pets Severus*

What Is, And What Should Never Be 

Chapter Five

Hermione arrived in the common room completely out of breath, doubling over from the pain of a searing stitch in her side. Harry and Ron, who were sitting in a corner doing some homework, looked up at her in surprise. Ron quickly reverted his attention back to his homework, but Harry stood up and walked over to her.

'What's wrong with you?' he asked.

'Ran… whole way…' wheezed Hermione in reply.

'Why?'

_Good question_, she thought. Somehow she didn't think kissing the teacher would be an appropriate alibi to give him. 'Didn't want to… be late…' Hermione lied, finally starting to get her breath back.

'It's only quarter past seven.'

'Damn watch must've stopped…' she shrugged. 'Well, I'm pretty tired. I'm going to have a shower and turn in for the night. Good night.' Without waiting for a response, she darted up the stairs to her room, which was thankfully empty. She needed to think, but her thoughts were racing so fast that she could catch one to ponder. She wondered if a hot shower would help her settle down, both mentally and physically – she had been shaking ever since… the incident. 

The water in the bathroom adjacent to Hermione's room always ran too hot. It nearly scalded her as she stepped into the shower, but she didn't notice. Her nerves calmed the second the water hit her skin. The water cascading down her body eased her mind and cleansed the feeling of dirtiness she had felt. Her thoughts left what had happened that evening and she relaxed, apparently for quite a while, as when she came back to reality there were angry knocks at the door.

'Oi! You've been in there for ages! C'mon, some of us need to shower too!'

'Sorry!' Hermione called, quickly jumping out and wrapping herself in a towel. Lavender Brown was waiting outside the door, arms folded and wearing a rather foul expression.

'I don't expect you'll need to shower for another week after that,' Lavender remarked.

'Sorry… just lost track of time,' replied Hermione, quickly bustling into her room to pull on her pyjamas. A glance at her watch told her she'd been in the shower for nearly an hour, which was also evident by looking at her prune-like hands and feet. She didn't feel like going downstairs to deal with Ron, so she climbed into bed and pulled out the book on Muggle misconceptions of Ancient Runes. She struggled through the first page, desperately trying not to let her mind wander, and eventually succumbed to the temptations of sleep.

***

The orange waters ran rapid, crashing against the sides of the river and breaking into white foam.

Odd colour for water… 

She ran, naked, along the bank, searching for something. A midnight raven stood in her path. She slowed. A white dove lay, it's neck snapped, it's eyes gauged.

Killed an innocent creature… 

The raven laid his head on the dove's wing. An opalescent tear fell from its eye.

Never seen a bird cry… 

There would be no more Potions classes until Friday, and for this Hermione supposed she ought to be relieved. She spent the next evening in her room, searching in _Potiones Ov The New Aeges _for a new project, as her previous one would most certainly have to be abandoned. A few interesting ideas came up, but none so stimulating as the project she had set her heart on completing. She was halfway through the book when sleep washed over her once more, and she slipped into the same dream she had dreamt the previous night. 

***

The dream made no sense to Hermione, but then again, that wasn't really her field of expertise. The morning classes of Arithmancy and Charms dragged on for an eternity, crawling up to the double block of Potions looming after lunch. Hermione found her mind wandering more often than she would have ever permitted herself to ordinarily. Snapshots of her dream flashed through her head, as well as the wrenching reminiscence of his gentle lips. She hated herself for thinking about it so much, and mentally scolded herself for not paying attention to her work, but a feeling she had never felt before – of longing, wondering, and things she couldn't put her finger on – overwhelmed her each time. Lunch passed like a haze in shades of grey. Hermione buried her face in a book so others couldn't see her glazed, daydreaming face. She spilled chicken casserole down her front and on her book as the bell rang. Instead of fussing over the ruined pages, she hurriedly tried to scrub of the white stain, thinking only of what Snape might think if he saw it. She disgusted herself.

She avoided eye contact with Snape throughout the lesson. She and Neville worked on preparing the Feormian Elixir, used for intense cleaning. Snape hinted he would be setting at least one student to work to prove it's potency. Hermione forbid herself to daydream in this class, for she knew what disasters could occur when she did so around a cauldron. The frothing, pearl potion appeared just as the notes said it should, and even Snape, when evaluation came, couldn't find an insult to throw at Neville. As a form of retribution for this, he gave Draco Malfoy perfect, even though his purple potion appeared to be evaporating at a very rapid pace. Finally, the last bell rang. The students packed their things and sat patiently for Snape to dismiss them (knowing all to well the reaction they would get for leaving without permission). 

'You will write a paragraph on the uses of this potion for Monday. Class dismissed.' The usual bustle began – everyone was eager to leave the dungeons. Amidst the chatter, Snape called to Hermione's back 'A word if you will, Granger, about your project.'

Her heart beat fast. Harry turned around and looked at her with a cocked eyebrow. 'I'll wait for you, shall I?'

'No,' Hermione said quickly. 'It's okay. I'll meet you in the Dining Hall. I think Ron's waiting for you.'

'If you say so.' She waited until she could no longer see him before she went into Snape's office. He was standing behind his desk, looking exceptionally nervous and fidgety – an appearance most odd for someone normally so imposing. He looked up directly at her. Taking a deep breath, he spoke immediately. 

'What happened the other evening was inexcusable. It is absolutely inappropriate for that to happen between a student and a teacher, and I am sure you are well aware that it would be advisable to never speak of it again.' The expression on his face was hard to read. It seemed to Hermione as if he didn't believe what he was saying. 

'Yes, sir.'

'I was completely out of line to ever bring you into something like that.'

'It was my fault too, sir,' Hermione mumbled.

'So, we both know how wrong it was…'

'Absolutely.'

His face changed. 'And I say it over and over in my head… and yet, as wrong as I know it was… all I can think about is how much I want to kiss you again.'

Hermione's breath caught in her chest. She raised her head and met his eyes.

'Me too.'

***

Yep yep, I think here's a good enough place to leave off, don't you?  


	6. Chapter Six

Obligatory disclaimer: JK Rowling owns all of the characters in this story (no, I won't be creating any originals), I just borrow them and occasionally use them as my love slaves *pets Severus*  
  
What Is, And What Should Never Be  
  
Chapter Six Hermione's legs turned to jelly and she struggled to maintain her balance. Snape looked as though he was feeling the same. Slowly, he walked around from behind his desk. Hermione inched towards him hesitantly, not daring to even believe this was anything more than another daydream. As they neared each other, she could feel the warm heat radiating from his body and as he reached out to put his hand on her shoulder, she realized how very real it was. She could hardly see straight - all she could do was stare into his eyes. Her brain felt as though it was rattling inside her skull. Feeling as though she would faint or throw up if she did not succumb to what had been plaguing her for the last three days, she gently placed her right hand on his chest and reached her lips up to his.  
  
They were soft and moist and welcoming. The kiss lasted only brief seconds before she pulled away again, waiting for Snape to make the next move. He bit his lip, not taking his eyes off of her. Hermione could feel his heart beating faintly in his chest; she wished he would do something. As though he had heard her silent prayer, Snape's hand gently slid off her shoulder, onto the small of her back and pulled her closer to him. He kissed her tenderly on her forehead, bringing his other arm around her to stroke her hair. Hermione let herself fall into his embrace, placing her head on his torso and drawing her left arm around his back. She felt so safe as she quietly listened to his breathing, savouring every rise and fall. Without warning, she felt hot tears prickling in her eyes and flowing down her cheeks - a culmination of the confusion and longing she had been feeling. She buried her face into Snape's robes as he continued to stroke her hair delicately, his fingers teasing the back of her neck.  
  
'Why are you crying?' he asked quietly.  
  
'I don't know,' whispered Hermione. 'I don't know why. I'm sorry.'  
  
'Don't be sorry. I understand.' He held her tighter and Hermione knew that if he hadn't been there to support her, she would've collapsed onto the floor. Her breath was coming in quick, shaky gasps as she struggled against more tears.  
  
'Let's sit down,' Snape said, leading her to a small, hard backed sofa in the corner of the office.  
  
'Thank you,' Hermione mumbled, still trying to control her haywire emotions. Snape rubbed her back gently with one hand.  
  
'Maybe you should get down to dinner,' he said. 'It'll look suspicious if you don't show up. Potter will wonder.'  
  
Hermione felt sorry to have to return to reality so soon, and realize what was actually happening. She raised her head and took a deep breath. 'You're right,' she replied.  
  
'Come back tonight, at seven. You can continue work on your project.' He helped her to her feet. 'We can talk properly then.'  
  
Hermione nodded. The situation still didn't seem real - the man standing before her was acting as she had never seen him before, as she would never have even thought possible. She didn't feel capable of returning to the bustle of students in the Great Hall, even though she knew she needed to. Nothing would ever be the same again, she though with a jolt in her stomach, half happiness, half fear. She glanced up, smiling slightly, at the man who stood changed and new in front of her. He smiled back and bent down to give her a small kiss on the cheek.  
  
'I'll see you later,' he whispered in her ear.  
  
Hermione moved towards the door. Snape called at her back 'Seven o'clock, then, Miss Granger.'  
  
'Seven o'clock, professor.'  
  
***  
  
Argh. I haven't written in SO LONG. I'm sorry! Hope there are still some readers out there. This one was short, again I'm sorry, but I just needed to write something. I know it was a little weird, awkward, out of character. but, hey, feelings like that do weird things to people. Tell me what you think! 


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